The wodwose are a band lost in the woods. Have they always been there??? Lurking and lingering, They find music everywhere, the gurgle and ringing of a stream, a Jays shriek, the roar of trees in storm, the heave of a train or steam engine, a tractors chug or a threshing machine, 

Sussurations and leaf fall, crack of frost, fox cry and boars snuffle. Their score is the everchanging sky, the swirl of a stream, the patterns of frost, a rusting car panel, corrugated roof, lichens and moss Bark rubbings. Play for the dance of time, sing lullabies to the earth, try to resist the decay of nature, the rot of ash, or maybe relish the chaos, they have a long perspective. Kettle on an open fire, grubbing around. Telling stories, casting spells, playing for woodland dances and rites. Getting lost and found. Hiding away. Maybe one ran away from a regimental band, maybe one left to join a circus for a bit, one was a hippy that got lost. 

They play old instruments stolen from the back of trucks or a band room, Old Tambourines, tabors, whistles, pipes, an old baritone saxophone, a metal clarinet, cow’s horns, bugles, cornets, jaw harps, old drums. 

This quartet play traditional tunes, dreamtime anthems, tunes for giants to dance too and improvise with the trees.